  At the table beyond us With her little suede slippers off, With her white-stocking’d feet Carefully kept from the floor by a napkin, She converses: Connaissez-vous Ostende? The gurgling Italian lady on the other side of the restaurant Replies with a certain hauteur, But I await with patience To see how Celestine will re-enter her slippers. She re-enters them with a groan. |
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